


Not Letting Go

by BlueNeutrino



Series: When Two Hearts Beat As One [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Episode: s01e12 Faith, Gen, Heartbeats, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, can be read as Wincest but doesn't have to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNeutrino/pseuds/BlueNeutrino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag to Faith for never-a-dull-beat on Tumblr.</p><p>Sam tries to take care of Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic with heartbeats, but less shippiness and more angst.

It was after dark by the time the brothers reached the motel. Sam had insisted on being the one to carry both their duffle bags inside, ignoring Dean's protests to not treat him like a child incapable of doing things for himself. It was obvious Dean was exhausted, despite Sam having driven the entire slog of the past day's journey. One more symptom of his deteriorating state.

Sam flung their bags down at the same time Dean collapsed onto one of the twin beds, letting out a tired grunt. With a look of concern etched onto his face, Sam cast a worried glance over his brother's body hunched on the bed. "Dean, you okay?"

The reply was mumbled. "Yeah. 'm fine."

"Dean…"

"I said I'm fine, Sam." He raised his head then to shoot his brother an irritated glare. "I mean, for a guy who's dying, I'm pretty damn peachy."

The words felt like a punch to Sam's gut. "Alright," he responded, trying to pacify Dean. "I just wanted to make sure." His attention returned to the bags, unzipping his own and rummaging around for something inside. When he turned back to Dean clutching a stethoscope, his brother raised an eyebrow.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Stole it from the hospital," Sam answered, striding over to take a seat on the bed beside Dean. "I need you to let me listen to your heart for a moment."

Dean looked disgruntled as he shuffled himself into an upright position. "My heart's already fried, Sam. Listening to it's not gonna help."

"Look, I know, but I just need to keep an eye on it, okay? If it gets any worse I'm taking you straight back to the hospital."

Dean still looked irritated, but he knew Sam was only doing it because he cared. Co-operatively, he hitched up his t-shirt and hoodie as Sam fitted in the earpieces and then raised the head to Dean's chest. Dean hissed as the cold metal made contact with his skin, but held still.

A frown creased Sam's brow as he concentrated on the sound of Dean's heart, teeth worrying incessantly at his lower lip. Dean watched him. "You'd make a terrible doctor, you know that? You're not supposed to look so worried."

"And you're a terrible patient," Sam retorted, trying not to let his brother distract him.

"I am not."

"Yes you are. You complain too much and never do as you're told. Now stop talking."

Dean scowled, looking ready to retaliate, but then obediently fell silent. His heartbeat thumped faintly in the earpieces, and Sam's frown deepened at the sound. He moved the chestpiece lower across Dean's ribs before setting it back against the warm skin, anxiety coursing through him as he heard how feeble and thready Dean's heartbeat was. He'd never actually listened to a human heartbeat before, but it was obvious to him that this didn't sound good.

Still wracked with anxiety, Sam pulled the disc back from Dean's chest for a moment and then lifted his own shirt to press it against his skin. Dean watched him with a puzzled look. "I thought my heart was the one that's supposed to be failing?"

"I just need something for comparison," Sam explained, concentrating on the sound of his own heart thumping much more strongly. The contrast only made him more worried.

After a moment or two, he removed the stethoscope from his chest again and returned it to Dean's. The weak fluttering of his brother's heart filled his ears: quiet, irregular, and much too fast. "Breathe deep," Sam instructed, and Dean did. The effect was to calm the somewhat skippy rhythm of his heartbeat, but not by much.

"So what's the verdict, doc?" Dean said after a couple of minutes, fixing his gaze on Sam's anxiety-ridden face.

Sam looked up at him, still chewing his lip. He couldn't lie. "Your heart's barely beating, Dean."

"I could have told you that." Dean was still trying to keep up the façade of being cool and unfazed by his present condition, but there were dark circles under his eyes betraying how sick he felt.

Sam sighed and removed the stethoscope from his ears, reaching instead to feel Dean's hands. They were cold and clammy to the touch, _like a corpse…_ Just as the notion entered his mind, Sam immediately chastised himself for thinking it. There was no way he should be comparing his brother to dead anything. Dean wasn't dead yet. Even if his heartbeat and his temperature and the pallor of his skin said he was dying, he was, right now, still alive. It was going to stay that way.

"Be honest, Dean," Sam said, looking up into his brother's eyes again. "Don't tell me you're fine or any of that crap. How are you feeling?"

For a moment, Dean looked like he was about to lie, but then a rare look of absolute vulnerability and fear passed over his face. "Queasy," he answered quietly. "And cold."

Of course he was cold. Sam should have been able to tell by the fact Dean was wearing one of his hoodies: Dean hated those things. If he was wearing it, it was only because it was thick and woolly and helped trap in the little heat his body was producing. Of course, it wasn't going to do much good if Dean's blood was only crawling through his veins anyway. Tenderly, Sam picked up both Dean's hands between his own and started to rub them for warmth. After a moment or two he moved onto Dean's arms, circling the skin with his palms as he massaged firmly with his fingertips. "Your circulation's shot to hell. We need to get you warmed up."

Dean grunted in irritation at Sam touching him, but his attempts to bat him away were only half-hearted. "It's not gonna help…" he complained, but closed his eyes in exhaustion as he let Sam continue. A few minutes later, the younger Winchester shifted himself further down the bed to pull off Dean's shoes and start rubbing at his feet, hoping to encourage Dean's blood to start flowing. If it was helping, the results were barely noticeable.

Despairingly, Sam couldn't help but think that Dean was right and this wasn't going to do much good. Still, Sam's own body was warm and his heart could damn well beat for the both of them if it had to. Reaching for the blankets, Sam untucked them and began to pull them up the bed over Dean's body, before kicking off his own shoes off and clambering under the soft layers of fabric to join him. His arms reached out to wrap around his brother's shivering form, pulling Dean close to his own warmth.

Again, Dean made a feeble noise of protest, but didn't really seem to mean it. "Aw, come on, dude. This is just awkward…"

"Shut up," Sam chided as he held his brother's body against him, trying to hide his worry at the freezing touch of Dean's skin. "You used to do this for me when we were kids, remember? Whenever I got scared."

"I'm not scared, Sam."

Sam didn't need to point out that was a lie. They both knew he was. "We're gonna fix this, Dean," Sam murmured reassuringly into his brother's hair as he brought Dean's head to rest under his chin. "If this specialist doesn't work out, we'll get you on the transplant list or something and find another way."

"How are you gonna do that when all we've got are fake IDs, no money and no health insurance?" Dean mumbled back. It was meant to be a smartass remark, but the fear in his voice was barely hidden, and Sam almost felt his own heart shattering.

"Don't argue," he said firmly, moving one hand to press against Dean's neck and seek out the reassuring feel of his pulse. "Just sleep."

Dean huffed slightly and Sam felt the warm puff of air against his throat, but his brother said nothing more. Dean's breathing was shaky as he tried to rest, and his pulse unnervingly fluttery beneath Sam's fingertips, but at least his body now felt warm. He wasn't about to slip away: not with Sam holding onto him.

And no matter what it took to save his brother, Sam wasn't about to let go.


End file.
